Cherish the Dog

No one tells you how quickly dogs age. How one day you wake up and suddenly their face is all white, how their eyes start to seem more milky than yesterday, how you have to call their name a few more times than you used to.

People tell you not to blink when you have children, but what about the dog who was with you before your children were even thought of? The dog who was by your side before you found the love of your life, the dog who jumped from apartment to apartment in your early 20’s. No one tell’s you to cherish every moment you have with them.

Cherish the dog. The one who’s been there through every break up and every dumb fight with your best friend. That dog who slept in bed with you when lonely and made you feel safe when you left home. Cherish him, because one day you’ll take him on a walk and he’ll start to get tired before you and you’ll realize just how many years he has been walking by your side.

Dog’s Playlist

People let me tell you ’bout my best friend
He’s a warm hearted person who’ll love me ’til the end
People let me tell you bout my best friend
He’s a one boy cuddly toy, my up, my down, my pride and joy

Our Time

I watched her today…As I do, everyday.  As I have done for the last twelve years.  At first, a bolt of energy.  A not needed breeze of fresh wind…she glazes the denim on my pants.  She antagonizes her baby brother.  A baby brother…that is now a senior.

Toward the end of wintry mix trail, she, the old brown dog, my best friend, comes to a stutter.  Her gait?  As ancient as mine.  We hobble, side by side, as it is…our time.

The bond with a dog is as lasting as the ties of this earth can ever be. – Konrad Lorenz

Cat Tales

“What’s your name,’ Coraline asked the cat. ‘Look, I’m Coraline. Okay?’
‘Cats don’t have names,’ it said.
‘No?’ said Coraline.
‘No,’ said the cat. ‘Now you people have names. That’s because you don’t know who you are. We know who we are, so we don’t need names.”

Neil Gaiman

 

cat nip

Reelin in the Years…with a Senior Cat

I had been recently complaining about…getting old, not being rich…mistakes made.  And, though, at the ripe old age of 15, my cat should know all my insecurities by now. …He just turned his back to me!

His thought bubble?

“You been tellin’ me you’re a genius since you were seventeen.  In all the time I’ve known you…I still don’t know what you mean.”